


Three Cheers for the Great Outdoors

by Hobsonphile



Series: Tony Stark's Five Year Gap [4]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: As Cap would say: Language!, Awesome Pepper Potts, B.A.R.F. | Binarily Augmented Retro Framing, But He Has Setbacks, But He'll Get Better, Canon Compliant, Delirium, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fever, Five Year Gap, Found Family Moments, Gen, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Healthy Conversations, Hurt/Comfort, James "Rhodey" Rhodes is a Good Bro, Kidney failure, Nightmares, Possible medical inaccuracies, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Recovery, Sick Tony Stark, Sickfic, Stubborn Tony Stark, Tags Are Hard, Tags May Change, Temporary Vision Loss, Therapy, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs Sleep, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Whump, Tony Stark is an addict, Tony's Having a Rough Time, Vomiting, Whump, but i tried, he's trying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:34:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25390195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hobsonphile/pseuds/Hobsonphile
Summary: By the summer of 2019, Tony had fought terrorists, Asgardian gods, space leviathans, Hydra goons, supersoldiers, and giant purple aliens with delusions of grandeur — and had narrowly cheated death every time.This story isn’t about one of those epic battles, though. This story is about that time Mother Nature tried to kill him — and how Tony dealt with the aftermath.(Did I dream up this scenario as an excuse to write Tony whump? Why yes, yes I did.)(Can be read with the rest of the series or alone.)
Relationships: James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark
Series: Tony Stark's Five Year Gap [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1776457
Comments: 67
Kudos: 95





	1. Chapter 1

Tony probably should’ve pulled the emergency cord the moment he walked face first into a wall.

In his defense, though, it wasn't the first time his eyesight had ever gone completely FUBAR. He’d had crippling migraines on the semiregular since his first year at MIT — and those usually came with auras that filled his left visual field with pretty sparkles and played Alice in Wonderland with his depth perception. Hell, even the puking was part of the standard package. Can you blame a guy for thinking, at first, that he was dealing with the damnably routine?

Tony gagged on the taste of metal that flooded his mouth and spat red on the bathroom tile. After yet one more offering to the porcelain god, he’d lost his balance and probably cracked a tooth or two on the rim of the bathtub. And now? Now he could barely move. Now he could barely **_breathe_**. 

“Pep?” The plea was ragged and weak, and Tony gasped, desperate to suck more air into his steadily tightening chest. He scrabbled for purchase on the blessedly cool floor as his old friend Panic threatened to make an untimely - and unwanted - appearance. “Pep?”

_Yep,_ he realized as a wave of dizziness hit and the world tilted. _Fucked up again._

\--*--

In the bedroom, Pepper stirred and rolled over, reaching out for her husband’s arm. When her hand met nothing but air and sweat-soaked sheets, a surge of concern yanked her all the way to full consciousness.

Sitting up, she noticed the light in the en suite was on, smelled the tang of bile in the air, and sighed. To be sure, Tony’s communication skills had improved markedly since he’d started working with Dr. Nolan. Indeed, when they’d gone to bed hours before, he’d quite frankly - and colorfully - admitted that his head was killing him and he felt “like shit warmed over”. But that old obstinacy? That once unshakeable conviction that he could gut things out just fine thanks please go to sleep honey? Well — that was just one reason why everyone who knew Tony dubbed him a work in progress. Sometimes he was willing to accept comfort. And sometimes —

Grabbing a rubber band from her nightstand, Pepper hastily pulled her hair back, shoved her blanket off her legs, and padded, barefoot, towards the bathroom. “Tony?” she called, gently knocking. “I’m coming in.”

A nightmare met Pepper’s eyes the instant the door swung open.

“Oh, God!” Her knees hitting the deck, her heart pounding, Pepper touched Tony’s crumpled form. She almost sobbed in relief when her husband moaned in response.

“Sorry. Fell.” Tony attempted to push himself up, wheezing, his arms shaking violently underneath his weight. Pepper immediately grabbed him by his armpits and hauled him up, leaning him carefully against the wall. He was a hot water bottle in her hands — and disturbingly fragile. 

Blood trickled from Tony’s lips, speckling his beard and staining his tank . “Can’t —” Tony rasped. “Can’t —”

“Shh. Easy.” Pepper caressed Tony’s cheek — and winced. “God, Tony, you’re boiling. FRIDAY?”

A beat passed as the AI consulted Tony’s transdermal monitor. “Respiration, 25 breaths per minute. Pulse, 110 beats per minute. Current temperature, 101 degrees Fahrenheit — and the recent trend suggests it’s climbing.”

Pepper combed through Tony’s greasy curls with her fingers. “Why didn’t you let FRIDAY wake me up?” She was pretty sure she knew the answer, but she still felt compelled to ask.

“Thought it was — jus’ a headache.” Uh huh, that was exactly what Pepper expected. _The idiot._ Eyes red and glassy, Tony favored his wife with a somewhat guilty look, apparently picking up on her train of thought. “Sorry.”

Pepper grabbed the towel that dangled off the edge of the sink behind her and mopped off Tony’s face. “I’ll yell at you later,” she said. “After we get you to the ER.”

At that, fingernails raked Pepper’s arm. “Pep —”

“No. No argument.” Tony’s mouth turned down in a frown, and Pepper sighed again. “I know, Tony. I know you hate the hospital. But I don’t think this is something you can knock down with my Motrin.”

“No. ‘M a big boy.”

Pepper smiled sadly. “Yeah, I know that too. Should I call the ambulance, or do you think you can walk?”

\--*--

“No drama,” Tony insisted, shaking his head. “Jus’ need a boost.”

Somehow, despite his aching limbs and his shortness of breath, Tony found a second wind and managed to pull himself upright with Pepper’s help. Somehow, despite the dangerous sway of the floor beneath his feet, he managed **_not_** to tip over once again. 

Leaning heavily against the sink, he peered blearily at his reflection in the mirror, opening his mouth and running his tongue along his incisors. _Yay,_ he thought with distant irony. _Need three new implants there, Sloth. Fun._

“Come on.” Pepper wrapped her arm around his shoulders and steered him back out of the bathroom. Once she’d safely plopped him onto the bed, she rubbed tender hands down his arms. “I’m gonna get you a few things. Just lie down and relax, okay?”

Tony did — sort of. Going horizontal was the easy part; chilling was **_much_** more difficult. Not being able to completely fill his lungs was bringing up memories that were triggering as fuck, and the usual Jedi mind tricks were only just keeping him on this side of losing it.

“Boss?” FRIDAY cut in. “I have Colonel Rhodes on the line.”

“Good girl,” Tony grunted into his pillow. “Put him through.” Above his alarm clock, a blue hologram flashed on. Tony’s eyes watered and slammed shut against the ice picks that suddenly drilled their way through to his frontal lobes. “Ugh. FRI, dial it back.”

“Hey, Tones. I hear you’re not doing too great.”

In years past, Tony would’ve bitched about his traitorous, blabbermouth AI. Tonight, though? Tonight he just didn’t have the strength for fronts. “Don’ know what it is,” he replied, and shit, he couldn’t quite stop his chin from quivering. “But it’s kicking my ass, Platypus.”

“I’m gonna take him in, Rhodey.” Tony felt the bed dip as Pepper sat down beside him. “Can you come over and watch Morgan?”

“No problem. Be there in an hour.” The hologram closed with a cheerful beep.

Pepper pressed a cool washcloth against Tony’s forehead, and Tony shivered.

\--*--

By the time Rhodey knocked on Tony’s front door, Pepper had gotten Tony changed into clean, comfortable clothes and had slipped on his shoes. Getting him out of their cabin, however, was another matter entirely.

“Can you help?” she asked Rhodey, and Rhodey obliged, clumping up to meet Tony in his bedroom. After taking in Tony’s pallor - and with a grace born from decades of practice - he ducked under Tony’s arm to support his friend’s trembling frame.

“Anything to get me to hold you, huh buddy?” Rhodey cracked, trying to keep it light.

“Yep,” Tony panted. “Figured me out. Always want you to hold me.”

Rhodey rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. “Why? Why do you **_always_** have to make it weird?”

“Cuz you love me,” Tony retorted before dissolving into an extended coughing fit.

“Yeah, unfortunately. All right, you chaos gremlin: one foot in front of the other.”

Slowly - torturously - they made their way down the stairs and out onto the driveway. There, Pepper rushed up to meet them, stepping in to support Tony’s other arm as he limped towards the car. Ten yards. Five yards. Two —

“Fuck.”

Rhodey stopped, on alert. “What’s wrong?”

Tony slumped and swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Gonna barf.”

Rhodey and Pepper traded a look above Tony’s head. “Okay. It’s okay, Tony,” Pepper soothed. “We’ve got you. Ease him down, Rhodey.”

As Tony rode out the mostly dry heaves, dribbling pink-tinged saliva and acid onto the dirt below, Rhodey rested one silver gauntlet on the other man’s shoulder, pressing down to keep him grounded. After **_years_** of bad hangovers and countless illnesses, none of this was new. Still, he felt a little awkward as he watched Pepper massage her husband’s back and whisper in his ear — like he was intruding on something exceedingly intimate.

Once Tony’s stomach had finally settled, Pepper reached into her purse for a tissue, dabbed at the corners of Tony’s eyes, and then handed the tissue over so Tony could wipe his mouth. “Ready?”

Breath hitching, Tony nodded, grabbing onto Rhodey’s armor as he tried to get to his feet. Tried — and failed.

“Tony?”

Tony’s eyes rolled back, and he collapsed, out cold. 

\--*--

“Mr. Stark? You with us?”

The familiar scent of pressurized oxygen hit Tony’s nostrils, rousing Tony from his torpor. He blinked, trying to resolve the doubled, blurry image of the paramedic kneeling next to him into something more clear and defined.

Gravel dug into Tony’s back, tiny pinpoints of pain catalogued with the ache in his sternum, the sting of his broken front teeth, and the agony that flared in his skull. And were those trees and stars and flashing lights that swung above him in time with the pounding in his temples? Strange. What were those doing in his bedroom? Why was the outside inside? Had the whole universe been inverted? What the hell was going on? And what was that sound? Was that his daughter screaming?

Tony grabbed at the mask that covered his mouth and nose and pulled it off. “Morgan?” He struggled to rise, but it was no use. Some asshole was holding him down. The bastard. Why wouldn’t he let go? Why wouldn’t he let Tony get to his kid? She could be hurt. She could be —

“Hey, hey. Take it easy, sir. Keep the oxygen on.” 

“Morgan —” Tony batted the man’s arm away, determined. “I need — I have to —”

Someone took hold of Tony’s hand and squeezed it tight. “It’s okay, Tony.” Pepper. “Rhodey’s got Morgan. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

“She’s crying,” Tony slurred, then grimaced as an alarm blared beside his right ear. “Can’t you hear it? I have to —”

“No, Tony.” Pepper was afraid. Tony could hear it in her voice. Why was she afraid? “She’s asleep in her crib. Rhodey’s watching her. I promise.”

“Temp’s spiking to 104,” said the uniformed blob. “I think we need to step on it. And tell Rick to break out the ice packs so we can stop the guy’s brain from bubbling over.”

_Yes, good. Protect the gray matter. Yes. But why? Brain and brain. What is brain? Oh, that’s right. It’s something important, goofy Star Trek lady._ Supergenius Tony Stark needed his brain — for some reason. Why couldn’t he remember the reason? 

A hysterical laugh bubbled up Tony’s throat — but quickly converted into a hacking cough. Swift, disembodied digits intervened, replacing the mask and tightening the elastic around his ears.

Then Tony felt himself being lifted — felt himself being deposited onto something soft.

He closed his eyes, retreating into merciful oblivion. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've added two scenes to Chapter One. Please read those first before proceeding!

“If you’re looking for Morgan’s bottles, they’re on the third shelf in the fridge.”

“I know. Don’t worry, Pepper. This isn’t my first babysitting gig.”

Pepper pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry. I just —”

Pepper was sitting alone in a family meeting room, her Starkphone active on the table in front of her. Next to Rhodey’s floating image sat several dog-eared magazines that, judging from their covers, **_long_** predated the Halving. Perusing them was like unearthing a time capsule. That reality TV star? Gone. Major League Baseball? On its last legs. So many frivolities. So much **_wasted time_**.

“Any news on our Shellhead?” Rhodey asked, his tone kind. Pepper could see he was standing in their kitchen, holding Morgan in the crook of his left elbow.

“No. They stabilized him with cooling blankets and took some blood samples, but I still don’t know what’s wrong. One of the nurses brought me in here to consult with the attending, but she still hasn’t showed.”

“Well, you and I both know the crap Tony’s been through. If he can survive a one-on-one with Thanos, I’m pretty sure he’s immortal.”

Pepper wished she had Rhodey’s apparent confidence. “God, you should’ve seen him. When they finally got him onto that ambulance, he was hallucinating.” She sighed. “I just hope whatever this is doesn’t cause any permanent damage. He’s dealt with enough trauma already.”

“Ms. Potts?”

Pepper looked up. In the doorway stood a prim little brunette clad in green scrubs and a lab coat. “Rhodey, I think the doctor’s here now. I’ll call you back once I know more.”

“I’ll be here.”

Pepper waved the projection closed and slipped the phone into the pocket of her jeans. “Dr. Ratchford?”

Ratchford walked up and shook hands before taking the seat beside Pepper and setting Tony’s chart - presumably - on her lap. “I’ve gotten the initial test results back,” the doctor began, “and we’ve found several concerning abnormalities.”

Pepper’s heart sank. “Okay,” she said after taking a deep breath. “What are we looking at?”

“Based on the blood counts and his symptoms, I think Mr. Stark has a severe bacterial infection. We won’t know exactly which one until we run a few more tests, but I’ve already started him on some antibiotics to address the more dangerous possibilities in the meantime.”

“So you have theories.”

“I do. But if you can walk me through his recent history, I might be able to narrow things down.” 

\--*--

_Tony was falling — down, down through the emptiness of space. Down, down, inexorably down — with nothing but the lights of cold and distant stars to note his passing. He opened his mouth to shout - to beg for help - but there was nothing — an endless, soundless, bottomless nothing that filled his air passages and silenced his fruitless pleas._

_He was being strangled. He was being strangled by the void._

Jerking violently, Tony gasped himself awake — then threw up his arms to shield himself against the surprise assault of light and sound.

“Tony!”

More alarms. Tony curled his knees up against his middle, his teeth chattering and clacking inside his jaw, his chest caving in as he fought for every last ounce of precious, precious oxygen.

“Please, I know what’s happening. Let me —” Bodies shifted, and someone clasped Tony’s wrist. “Tony, you’re in the hospital, but you’re safe. Just focus on me and breathe, okay?”

It took a long time for the fear to subside — for Tony to unfold and chance a glance at Pepper’s warped and fuzzy face. “Cold,” he choked.

“They’ve got a cooling blanket on you to keep your temperature down.”

“I can’t —” A lump formed in Tony’s throat. “I can’t really see you.”

“Doctor?”

A pert young woman approached the bed and tilted Tony’s head back so she could examine his eyes. Tony hissed each time the light of the ophthalmoscope hit his retinas. 

“Your optic discs are a little swollen, Mr. Stark,” the doctor finally concluded.

“Is it — is it permanent?”

“Unlikely. You don’t have meningococcal meningitis, which was our first big worry. The lumbar puncture and the brain scans all came up normal — which means the inflammation is probably a neuritis that’ll eventually clear up on its own.”

“How long?”

“Four to twelve weeks on average.”

The lump in Tony’s throat seemed to double in size. “What’s happening to me?”

“We won’t know for a few days, but right now, our best guess is a rickettsial disease. Your wife mentioned you’ve been spending a lot of time outside in your garden over the past few weeks. Do you remember getting bitten by a tick, Mr. Stark?”

“No.”

“Well, not every patient does. Actually, if this is what I think it is, most patients don’t end up in the hospital either.”

“Jus’ me?”

“You and anyone else with a compromised immune system.”

“Fuckin’ special.” Tony’s face crumpled, and he buried it in the rough cotton of his sheet.

\--*--

“Dr. Ratchford,” Pepper interrupted. “Can you give us some time alone?” She could see that Tony was on the edge and knew he’d appreciate some privacy.

“Of course.” 

Ratchford motioned for the nurse to follow her, and the two of them filed out the door.

For a time, Pepper let the cardiac monitor and Tony’s labored breathing fill the silence. Then she pulled up her chair and started stroking Tony’s arm and the back of his hand. “Tony,” she murmured.

“I can’t.”

“Shh. Stop worrying and just rest.”

“I can’t be half blind for three months. What about the carbon reclamator? What about the baby?” Coughing, Tony rolled over, turning his back to Pepper. 

Pepper couldn’t help but notice the moisture that glistened on Tony’s cheeks. 

“Oh, Tony. You know we have help. We have Happy and Rhodey — and a rebuilding R&D department to pitch in with the work side of things. Besides,” she added, climbing into the bed and hugging Tony close, “I think you’re forgetting your own ingenuity. Surely the man who built Iron Man in a cave with a box of scraps can adapt to some temporary vision loss. Right?” 

The monitor continued to beep out Tony’s rapid but steady heartbeat.

“Okay,” Tony said, his voice raw.

Pepper sat up and kissed a trail of salt by Tony’s ear. She was sure Tony would be able to confront this like he confronted everything else — with fierce tenacity, stubbornness, and, yes, a touch of pride. And she was sure Tony knew it too.

She was sure, that is, until Tony woke up the following morning and peed blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, I chose a rather unusual whump option. But hey: Tony's living out in the woods!
> 
> And yes, I'm basing this roughly on someone's true story.


	3. Chapter 3

Acute kidney failure and hemorrhaging brought on by a severe case of anaplasmosis — that was Dr. Ratchford’s tentative diagnosis. And unfortunately, there was nothing she could do about it but continue to pump Tony full of doxycycline and other supportive medications until he turned a corner.

**_If_** he turned a corner, that is. **_If_** Tony could muster enough of an immune response, despite his missing spleen, to keep his place among the living. Though the doctor was generally optimistic that Tony would recover with the right treatment, his chances were not 100%. 

When Rhodey stopped by Tony’s private room that evening with Morgan in tow, this is what Pepper told him — and the news only added to the surrealism of the circumstances. Just a few days prior, he’d joked around with Tony on the armor’s comms as he streaked back from a minor tussle with a reedy pissant of a mad scientist who’d decided, for shits and giggles, to unveil his new goo monster in the middle of a wedding in Central Park. As they’d argued over which was worse, black organic slime or baby spew, Tony had sounded perfectly fine. But now?

“How the hell did this happen so quickly?” Rhodey asked, setting Morgan’s diaper bag and her baby carrier - with its napping occupant - down on a padded bench that took up the far wall by the window. Bunched up on one corner of the bench, he noted, were a pillow and a thin peach blanket. “Was there any sign at all he was getting this sick?”

At Tony’s bedside, Pepper pressed her hands against her puffy eyes, then brushed them once through her limp ginger hair. “Other than the bad headache he mentioned a few hours before we called you, no. But the doctor says this kind of rapid decline isn’t unheard of — especially for someone with Tony’s medical history.”

Rhodey looked up at the screen that hung above Pepper’s head - where Tony’s temperature blinked red, a steady 101.8° - then approached the bed rail and squeezed the ailing engineer’s shoulder. Tony’s eyes fluttered open in response.

“You need to quit scaring the crap out of us like this, Mr. Stank,” Rhodey snarked. “I’m getting a little tired of this routine.”

Tony’s gaze flicked left — then right. “Wha’ happen?” he mumbled, his words almost indistinct.

Rhodey squinted, perplexed. “You’re in the hospital. You don’t remember?”

“Sometimes he doesn’t,” Pepper said. “He’s been drifting in and out of awareness.”

Tony slowly reached up, tremors quaking through his hand, and tugged at the cannula in his nose. “Off.” The word was forced out with a cough, but it still managed to sound petulant.

“I don’t think so, Tony,” Rhodey warned, seizing Tony’s wandering fingers before they could pull anything free. “I think you better leave that where it is.” Tony growled low in his throat and twisted against Rhodey’s restraining hold. “Whoa, hey, stop. Relax. You’ve got tubes hooked up in places I don’t even wanna think about. Just go back to sleep, okay?”

Tony puffed in agitation - his muscles stiff, his eyes wet - for several minutes before he finally settled and succumbed to unconsciousness. _God, I love you, but you’re a bullheaded little shit._

“It’s hard to see him like this.” Pepper’s voice wavered, and she took a deep breath, sitting up a bit straighter, evidently determined to put on a brave face. “I just keep thinking about those first few days after —” 

Rhodey knew exactly what Pepper meant. “Yeah, I know.” He ran his thumb along the black-and-blue spots that speckled the back of Tony’s hand, trying - but failing - to banish the memory that flashed into the forefront of his mind. Tony — still recovering from traumatic peritonitis. Tony — dehydrated, starved, his normally keen mind tick-tocking between sense and nonsense.

Honestly, with Iron Man now officially in retirement, Rhodey had thought his friend was done — at least for the time being. It didn’t seem fair, somehow, that right at the moment Tony was finally getting his life back together - right at the moment he seemed to be healthy and coping properly with their new reality - something else would come along and smack him back down.

But: “I think there are a few bright sides here, though.” Rhodey needed to do **_something_** to leaven the mood — to beat back the encroaching dread.

“Hmm?”

“If he’s still willing to fight being tied down to a bed, he’s probably gonna make it.”

“He’s too stiff-necked to go. Is that what you’re saying?” Pepper smiled through unshed tears and smoothed Tony’s bangs off his sweaty forehead. Though Tony stayed under, he did lean into Pepper’s touch and whimpered softly. Pepper moved her hand down and cupped her husband’s stubbled cheek. “Shhh,” she whispered.

“ ** _And_** if the doctor’s right,” Rhodey continued, “Tony’s gonna have some trouble getting around for a few months. Which means I **_finally_** get to have my revenge for all those times the prick made himself a royal pain in my ass after Germany.”

The sound Pepper made then fell somewhere between a chuckle and a sob. “Oh, he’ll love that.”

“That’s what I’m counting on.”

The pall in the room had cleared — at least a little.

“Listen, Pepper — why don’t you head home for a while. I’m sure it was no picnic bunking up here overnight.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Nat’s gonna keep me off the call sheet until Tony’s out at least.” Rhodey scratched the back of his head. “They’re all worried down at the Compound, by the way. Even Rocket — I think. It’s hard to tell sometimes what he’s thinking. The furball kinda reminds me of Tony before he got his head shrunk. Same allergy to feelings.” A pause. “But seriously, Pepper: go. Tony will creatively and painfully murder me if I let you keel over from exhaustion.”

Sometime later, after he’d successfully wrangled Morgan and her mother out the door, Rhodey sat down in the armchair the latter had vacated and sighed, finally allowing himself to feel the apprehension he’d been holding back for Pepper’s sake. He couldn’t avoid it any longer: between the bruising, the sallow complexion, and the rattling of the fluid in his chest, Tony looked pretty close to death.

“You better not check out on me, Tones,” Rhodey scolded fondly. “Your family needs you.” He bumped Tony’s arm with his fist. “Plus, we had a deal. I’m older. I’m supposed to go first.”

Tony stirred, water leaking from under his eyelids.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If a certain line towards the end there didn't make your heart hurt, I'm not doing my job.
> 
> In the next week or two, I'll probably have a better idea how many chapters this will be. Thanks to everyone who's sticking with me so far!


	4. Chapter 4

Time passed, a long, unmeasured lacuna. Typically, Tony’s precise internal clock could track that variable with near-atomic accuracy — but between the fever, the organ failure, and the cocktail of drugs they were no doubt pumping into him to keep him stable, Tony’s most conscious moments were spent in a bizarre twilight space between slumber and wakefulness, his brain locked in safe mode. He **_could_** think — sometimes. But the process was damnably slow — like starting a windmill that had sat idle for several centuries.

He hated it. He hated **_all_** of it.

When Tony was closest to full lucidity, numerous irritations made themselves known — loudly. Persistently. His bruises throbbed. His muscles screamed. He wanted to turn over - to curl up on his side and hug his pillow to his chest as he would in his own bed - but he was held fast by something they’d wrapped around his legs. And worst of all? He had to piss. He had to piss **_constantly_** , and there was nothing he could do about it.

“They’re uh — they’re taking care of that for you,” Rhodey had said the very first time Tony mustered just enough strength to bitch about the protestations of his bladder. It took a moment for Tony to understand what had been left unspoken. But then rusty, ponderous gears clicked into place, and he shuddered, humiliation burning under his ribs like a smoldering coal. “Sorry, buddy. I know it sucks.”

Still, that profound indignity was preferable to what greeted him each time his delirium sucked him back down into sleep, where his memories unspooled like the world’s worst home movie reel. 

One moment, he was back in that cave, gagging as dirty water flooded his mouth and nose, white-knuckling the battery that was his only lifeline. 

The next moment, a nuclear fireball — followed by black and stars and existential terror as he dropped to his certain death.

And then? Then the lance - a white-hot agony slamming into his side - and the unwanted caress of a monster’s enormous purple hand. _Don’t you touch me, you sick asshole. Don’t you **dare** touch me._

Blood in his throat. Dust on his hands. **_His_** dust. The kid.

All gone. Alone. **_Alone_** , like he’d always foreseen.

Again and again, the cycle repeated. Tony’s days became defined by the gentle manhandling of his nurses. By his unremitting nightmares. By his anxiety and frustration and damnable helplessness. It was torture — and it seemed inescapable.

On one occasion, Pepper tried to comfort Tony after yet another round of intense flashbacks — and he simply **_crumbled_**. He shook. His chest heaved. Sobs rose up and he couldn’t stop them.

He was done. He was absolutely fucking done.

\--*--

And then — then Tony woke up, his mental clarity restored.

“Welcome back to the world, Mr. Stark. It looks like your fever’s finally broken.”

The light made Tony’s eyes ache, but by force of will, he kept them open. Arrayed around the room were the outlines of three different people. On the left side of the bed, most likely, was a nurse. Tony couldn’t make out much beyond basic, large shapes, but he **_could_** feel the unidentified individual fussing with his blood pressure cuff, which seemed to provide confirmation enough as to her occupation. At the foot of the bed, meanwhile, was Happy; this guess Tony made based on his proportions and shape of his head. And to Tony’s right? Pepper. The red of her hair was muted by the effects of the optic neuritis, but Tony recognized it nonetheless. 

Tony tried to move his right hand to touch Pepper’s cheek — but was stopped by a leather restraint. Anger flared. “How ‘bout cutting me loose, Nurse Ratched?” he groused.

Beside him, Pepper laughed in relief. “Sorry, Tony. You kept trying to remove your IV.”

Once he was freed, Tony massaged both his wrists and pawed at his face. _Ugh. Two weeks of growth_ , he thought. _Give or take a day._ He needed a razor, a toothbrush — and, yes, a couple thousand years in some boiling hot water. He could feel his hospital gown clinging uncomfortably to his clammy skin — and more importantly, he could smell it. _Gross._

But before Tony could make all of his complaints and desires known, Pepper - the minx - enveloped him in a tight hug and started kneading circles between his shoulder blades. For a moment, Tony forgot to be embarrassed by his own filth, and he planted several chaste kisses along the curve of his wife’s neck.

“Hey, guys? This **_is_** a public place, you know.”

“Shut up, Hap.” But Tony did pull away to run his hands through Pepper’s hair, reveling in that tactile reassurance. “I’m sorry.”

“For what, honey?”

“For forgetting to put on insect repellant.”

“Honestly, Tony,” Pepper replied, and somehow, Tony knew she was smiling — even if he couldn’t clearly read her expression. “You’d forget your own head if it wasn’t screwed on.”

Tony closed his eyes, pressing his face against Pepper’s chest and enjoying the teasing for what it was: a slice of **_normalcy_** for a savant and his exceedingly tolerant and loving spouse. And speaking of normalcy: “So when can we get out of here?”

“ ** _Tony_**.”

“Please?”

“No. I almost lost you — **_again_**. I’m **_not_** signing you out AMA.”

Tony straightened, his jaw clenched. But before he could say another word, his other visitor intervened. “Don’t be a jackass, Tony. For once in your life, listen to the doctors.”

Tony glowered at Happy for a good long while — but eventually relented. “Can I at least go to the can and get a shower like a grown-ass man?”

“That’s probably not the best idea, Mr. Stark,” warned Nurse Ratched. Because yep: as far as Tony was concerned, she was earning the nickname he’d coined. “You’re going to be pretty unsteady on your feet until you’ve had a few sessions with the PT.”

“Tony and I have been through this before. What if I helped him?” Pepper asked, bless her. “Would that be okay?”

After several discussions with Dr. Ratchford and the charge nurse, Tony finally - **_finally_** \- won this one small battle. And **_God_** , he almost **_purred_** the moment Pepper started working his favorite brand of shampoo through his curls and he caught a whiff of its distinctive minty fragrance.

If they could just permit him a few key pleasures - a few essential freedoms - he’d tolerate their boring kidney diet and their therapists and the rest of their mother-henning nonsense. 

At least for a while. At least until his patience reached its unbreachable limit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yes -- as you can see, I think this is going to be eight chapters minimum, with the back four focusing on Tony's frustrations with the long recovery process and how he attempts to cope.
> 
> FYI, if you want to know how I would personally handle the popular "Tony lives!" scenario (and I HAVE received that request at the bottom of my post-Snap novella), this fic offers some pretty big hints. ;)


	5. Chapter 5

“What the hell are you doing?”

Tony stopped in the middle of his latest private room and swayed a little, one hand fisted on his waistband to hold his loose black sweats in place, the other wrapped around his IV pole. “Going to the big boys’ room,” he snapped. “What, do you want a number?” And with that, he resumed his careful, shuffling walk.

Rhodey sighed. Three days: that’s all the time it took for Tony to become almost incorrigible. _But let’s be real: you’ve seen quicker rebellions before._ When it came to doctors and hospitals, half a week of marginal cooperation was far better than Tony’s average — at least when he was conscious and feeling better. “You know you’re supposed to ring the help before you do that, right?”

And speak of the devil: a young, blonde nurse jogged in right on cue. If Tony had been able to make out the guy’s mustache, Rhodey decided, he probably would’ve dubbed him “Goose.”

“Mr. Stark —”

“ ** _Jesus fuck!_** ” Tony burst, cutting off the impending admonition. “You faint **_one time_** and suddenly everyone thinks you’re an invalid.”

“It was twice,” Goose unhelpfully supplied. 

Tony looked for all the world like he was trying to pierce his two handlers with daggers mentally conjured from thin air.

“You know what?” Rhodey intervened, laying a hand on the nurse’s shoulder. “Why don’t you head out? I think I’ve got ‘im.”

Tony didn’t wait for Goose to leave before slamming the bathroom door shut. “For fuck’s sake,” he continued to rage, “is a little **_privacy_** too much to ask for?” Then he turned on the tap, drowning out whatever else he was muttering as he handled his business.

Rhodey sat down in the chair beside the bed and fiddled with the TV remote, wanting to give Tony some much needed space. After all, he could empathize. He knew what it was like to have nurses and therapists supervising your every move.

At length, the water shut off and the aforementioned bathroom door creaked back open. 

“You know, I get it, Tony. I really do. But it’d probably help if you were nicer to the hospital staff.”

“What are you talking about, Pudding Pop? I’m **_the_** picture of charm and grace.”

“Uh huh. Sure you are. Especially in those fuzzy pink socks.”

Tony looked down at his feet. “They’re pink?”

“As Pepto Bismol. Looks good with the rest of the ensemble.”

In addition to the sweats and the socks under discussion, Tony was also wearing a forest green bathrobe and tinted blue glasses. The combination was a strange one, to say the least — certainly not what Tony would’ve selected under any other circumstances.

“Watch it, buddy,” Tony warned, defensive. “If you’re smirking, I’m taking back my War Machine armor and making it a scarecrow.”

“I’m not.” And Rhodey really wasn’t. Jokes aside, he knew Tony **_had_** to be feeling especially vulnerable. Even though he’d kicked the worst of the infection and his kidneys were definitely on the mend, his eyesight, unfortunately, had continued to worsen since he’d woken from his fever-induced stupor. And while Dr. Ratchford and the attending ophthalmologist were fairly confident that Tony wouldn’t go **_completely_** blind before the temporary inflammation peaked, even those expert opinions, Rhodey was sure, did little to quell Tony’s deepest fears. “Is your color vision now completely gone?”

“Yeah.” 

His energy and bluster fading, Tony slumped onto the bed like a string-cut marionette and scrubbed his face with the back of his wrist, the sleeve of his robe slipping down to reveal a yellow “Fall Risk” band that had seen better days. _Has he been trying to chew that off his own arm?_ Rhodey wondered. Honestly, he couldn’t put it past his proud and willful friend. _Tony Stark always does what he wants._

“How much **_can_** you see?”

“Enough to see you’re here. Enough to get around without tripping over furniture. Other than that —” Tony shrugged, his hands opening in a gesture of despair. 

“Hey.” Rhodey’s palm hovered over Tony’s knee for a moment — then landed. “No matter what, you know we’re all here for you, right?”

Tony’s mouth quirked up a little. “I know. It’s hard, but believe me, I know.” 

“Just let us know what’s on your mind, okay?”

“Don’t worry. I’m not gonna be like — well, you know. At least, I hope not. I’m dying of boredom, I’m sick of daytime TV, and I’m fucking terrified I’m never gonna see my daughter’s beautiful face again.” Tony’s voice cracked, and he swallowed it down. “But weirdly, things are still a little more together” — he tapped his temple — “up here.”

“And while we’re on that subject, have you phoned Doc Nolan? Set up some remote appointments to talk this out?”

“Yep. Already done. And Pep’s looking for the vision team.”

“Huh.”

“Like I said, I’m a responsible adult now. Mostly.”

Rhodey laughed. “Well, I guess you have nothing left to do but rest.”

“Not quite. There’s one last thing **_you_** can help me with.” Tony leaned forward and pulled a little wired box out of the pocket of his robe. “Something **_way_** more interesting than listening to another rerun of _Diners, Drive-Ins, & Dives_.”

“That the transmitter beaming your ECG to the nurse’s station?” Rhodey asked, on guard. Though he was happy to see that Tony’s previously tetchy mood had passed for the time being, he distrusted the new mischievous sparkle in the engineer’s eyes.

“I had FRIDAY run an analysis on this little spy device, and I think I know how to rig it to broadcast an all-normal when I need it to. Trouble is, I need a good pair of eyes.”

“Tony —”

“Come **_on_** , Rhodey Bear,” Tony begged, lengthening the second syllable. “Just so I can answer a call of nature every once in a while without the whole universe buying tickets to watch? I promise I won’t misuse my power. But freedom is my **_birthright_**.”

_Damn it. He’s really turning it on, the smarmy bastard._ Rhodey never could resist Tony’s puppy-dog eyes no matter how hard he tried — even if he **_knew_** he was being played. Several infamous visits to the dean’s office at MIT attested to that sad fact.

“So much for being responsible,” Rhodey finally said, throwing up his hands in abject surrender.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this scene was totally written around the image of Tony hatching a scheme to refit his portable cardiac monitor (because you know he would) and Rhodey not-so-secretly enjoying his best friend's antics despite his better judgment.
> 
> Also: fuzzy pink hospital socks! :)


	6. Chapter 6

Pepper thought she’d timed her visit perfectly. 

While sharing a quiet dinner with Tony the evening before, she’d heard the on-duty nurse rattle off the upcoming therapy schedule for Tony’s benefit. Respiratory, of course, was still coming in every four hours to help Tony bring up the fluid that lingered in his scarred and battered lungs. Physical therapy was taking him for a walk shortly after lunch. And Occupational, interestingly enough, had decided to take advantage of Tony’s convalescence to address the long-standing nerve pain in his left arm and hand. It was a pretty full plate; nonetheless, Pepper assumed she could stop by during a free period in the late afternoon to spend some time with her recovering husband — and do what she could to alleviate his ennui.

Thus, when she walked into Tony’s room at the appointed hour and found it empty, she immediately dropped her umbrella and her bags and headed straight for the nurses’ station.

“According to this,” said the RN manning the counter, gesturing to the bank of screens beside him, “Mr. Stark is right where he should be.”

“No, he isn’t,” Pepper repeated, doing her best to remain composed. “I was just in there.”

_Don’t panic_ , she thought as the young man scrambled for the phone, his eyes wide.

In addition to throwing a stack of non-disclosure agreements on the hospital administrator’s desk to keep any excessively curious reporters at bay, Pepper had also ordered Happy to post one of his Stark details at the hospital for Tony’s protection. Years of experience - and several kidnappings - had taught her, after all, **_not_** to leave Tony exposed when he was at his weakest, for it was at those times that his numerous enemies preferred to strike. 

No: with Hap’s well-trained men in place, it was unlikely that Tony was off the hospital premises. But the question remained: where **_did_** he go? And how had he managed to outsmart his monitor? As Pepper watched local and Stark security assemble in the hallway outside Tony’s room, she privately resolved to read Tony the riot act once she'd tracked him down.

\--*--

“Tony, what are you **_doing_** here?”

It hadn’t been long before Pepper found her wayward partner in an infrequently-trafficked rear stairwell. Tony was huddled on the landing between the second and third floor, his back pressed against the wall, his forehead on his knees. On hearing Pepper’s voice, he lifted his bloodshot eyes — and immediately grimaced, chagrined. “Sorry.”

Beside Pepper, Dan toggled his radio on and broadcasted the all’s well. “Michaels here. We’ve got him. Call off the dogs.” 

Nodding her thanks at Happy’s third, Pepper crouched down beside Tony with a slightly exasperated sigh. “You know, you almost gave the charge nurse a coronary. And honestly, I’m not even going to ask you what you did to your holter — or how. What were you thinking?”

“Sorry,” Tony muttered again. “Just wanted to practice the stairs on my own.” Then he glared, suddenly furious. _No_ , Pepper’s inner voice amended. _Self-conscious._ “Contrary to popular belief, I **_know_** how to find my way back. Third floor. Four doorways from the stairway. Then a turn. Then six more doorways. I’m **_not_** a **_complete_** dumbass.”

“Okay,” Pepper replied, placating. She pressed the back of her hand against Tony’s dirty and sweat-smeared cheek. “So why **_aren’t_** you back in your room?”

“I —” Tony swallowed thickly and looked away. “I slipped. There was a puddle, and I didn’t —” He stiffened, turtling his shoulders. “I fucked up my wrist and my knee, and now I can’t —”

“And you didn’t yell for help?”

“I was thinking about it,” Tony gritted, his expression flinty, his anger and embarrassment at a barely controlled simmer. 

“But you didn’t want anyone to know about your little act of sabotage.” Tony’s tight-lipped refusal to respond was all the confirmation Pepper needed. “ ** _Tony_**.”

“I **_know_**.”

Pepper reached for the hand Tony was protectively cradling against his chest and gingerly pushed back his sleeve. His left wrist was swollen and purpling — and obviously tender if Tony’s whispered imprecations were anything to go by. _They’ll probably have to take him down for an x-ray._

“Son of a **_bitch_**.”

“I’m sorry, Tony. I won’t touch it anymore. But can I look at your knee?”

Tony gnawed hard on his lower lip, but he didn’t resist as Pepper rolled up his pant leg to take note of the equally spectacular abrasions that decorated his right knee. “Okay,” she said once she’d finished her once-over, her tone brisk and business-like. “Do you think you can make it to the third floor if Dan and I support your weight?”

Tony hesitated briefly — then nodded.

\--*--

One trip to radiology, a couple of Ace bandages, and a few stern lectures later, Pepper helped Tony clean up and change into a fresh set of PJ’s, smiling warmly as she smoothed out the wrinkles. “I’ve never seen this particular t-shirt before.”

“Which one is it?”

“It says, ‘I’m a dad and an engineer. Nothing scares me.’”

“Oh. Rhodey gave that to me as a joke last month.”

“Well, I think it’s perfect,” Pepper concluded, punctuating her judgment by kissing the top of Tony’s head, then busying herself with arranging his pillows so he could keep his bruised knee elevated. “Unless Rhodey can find a shirt that says, ‘I’m my wife’s favorite idiot.’ In that case, I think I’d have to crown a new winner.”

“Would you like an ‘I’m with stupid’ shirt in your size?” Tony asked ruefully. “FRIDAY can have it shipped by tomorrow.”

Chuckling, Pepper squeezed herself next to Tony and rested her hand on his stomach. “No. But I **_would_** like to know why you took such a risk today.”

“I didn’t think it **_was_** a risk. I’d already done it six other times.”

“So you’ve been sneaking out since —”

“Wednesday. The last time Rhodey was here.”

“Hmm. But I’m guessing the idea was all yours.”

“You know me so well.” Tony wrapped his arm around Pepper’s shoulder, nuzzled his face in her hair, and fell silent.

Pepper started tracing comforting swirls on Tony’s chest. “We’re still just fine, you know. Your daughter and I. You don’t have to push yourself so hard.” 

When Tony tensed beneath her touch, Pepper knew she had hit her target.

“The past few months —” she continued. “You’ve been such a hero with Morgan. And I mean that. You’ve been so involved. So affectionate. We’ve been **_lucky_** to have you. And if you have to dial back on some of your daddy duties for a while because of this - because you need time to get better - it’s okay. I don’t think Morgan will adore you any less. And I know **_I_** won’t.”

Pepper felt a slight tremor skitter through Tony’s muscles. Disentangling herself from her husband’s embrace, she sat up and bracketed his face with her two palms. “You heard me, right? We will **_always_** love you. Whatever it is you think you need to prove — you’ve already proven it a million times over.”

“Yeah,” Tony said, blinking rapidly, his words strangled by emotion. “I heard you.”

“Good.” Pepper rubbed his chest again and settled back down by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony's t-shirt is real! You can search for it on Amazon. ;)
> 
> Also, ha ha! This is going to be ten chapters instead of eight because I have no self control. Oops.


	7. Chapter 7

The hospital released Tony on a warm and sticky Friday — and it was not a moment too soon. Thanks to the rehab wing’s rudimentary cable, he was getting dangerously addicted to the Food Network for some unaccountable reason, which was making him crave things the nephrologist had **_definitely_** put on the no-no list — at least for the next few months.

After climbing into the passenger side of his convertible - on his **_own_** power, thank you very much - Tony settled back into his seat with a deep sigh. Even with his aviators, the brilliant August sunshine made his eyes throb fiercely, so he screwed them shut and reached out with his other senses, quietly appreciating the well-worn leather upholstery beneath his hands — and the insistent trill of a solitary bird that had lit on a nearby bush. _Poor bastard_ , Tony thought of his feathered friend. _I’m guessing the pickings on Bird Tinder are a bit slim._

“Everything okay?” Pepper asked after she’d thrown Tony’s bag in the trunk and thanked the hovering orderly.

“Always,” Tony returned with a smile. And it wasn’t a **_total_** lie. After all, he was going **_home_**. His hands were literally itching with a desire to tinker in his personal sanctum, legal blindness be damned. And even more importantly, he desperately longed to sit in his old rocking chair and snuggle with his Morguna — to listen to her coo and babble for as long as he wished. (Pepper had brought Morgan along on a few of her afternoon visits to the ward, but for Tony, those brief snatches of daddy time were never, **_ever_** enough.) 

Things **_were_** going to work out eventually. Right? Tony **_had_** to believe that. He **_had_** to choose optimism because he knew - had experienced - the alternative, and it had almost destroyed him. No: those grey clouds he felt lurking at the edges of his consciousness **_had_** to be beaten back. Every unhealthy whisper - every temptation to despair - **_had_** to be challenged — for his family’s sake as well as his own. It didn’t matter that with each harsh reminder of his current predicament, he remembered whiskey burning in the back of his throat.

_That’s enough, Stark. Don’t go there._

As Pepper wound her way down the county route to their cabin, Tony redirected his attention to the grounding kiss of the wind on his face — and the smokey-sweet aroma of an unknown farmer’s summer barbeque, which followed them for several miles before dissipating into the ether. It wasn’t exactly like flying, vents open, past the skyscrapers of Manhattan or the salty beaches of the California coast — but Tony loved it all the same. In the end, it reminded him why, almost a year before, he’d chosen to stay alive at all.

When they finally pulled up to their destination, Tony braced himself — then slowly opened his eyes. Here, thank fuck, the trees were providing just enough shade to damp his ever-present headache down to a dull roar. Here, he could probably navigate without the cane Veronica had given him. (“Since you have residual vision, you don’t necessarily need this,” she’d said at the time. “But I’m going to give it to you just in case.”)

Stepping out of the car, Tony waved away Pepper’s wordless offer of assistance, squared his shoulders, strode up the steps and across the porch, and pulled open his front door.

“Stark. Have you recovered?”

Tony blinked, nonplussed. “Blue Man Group?”

Rhodey squeezed into the doorway beside Nebula and clapped Tony’s shoulder. “I brought her up here with me. And Nat should be coming tomorrow — once she’s finished mopping up after that Children of Thanos cell down in Albany.”

“What happened this time?”

“They hit a bank. Took several hostages. Guess they were a little short on cash.”

“Shit.” Tony had absolutely sworn off Avenging, but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel a twinge of guilt each time he missed a fight.

“Don’t worry about it, Tones. Fortunately, no one was seriously hurt. Now come on: there’s a party platter of fresh vegetables in here with your name on it.”

Tony made a wry face. “Right. I almost forgot: no fun allowed.”

\--*--

About a half hour into the after-dinner conversation, Tony started to lose track of what was being said, his eyelids drifting shut despite his best efforts. It was stupidly early, he knew, but that damn tick had wrung him out completely. Hell: lately, it was a miracle if he stayed conscious past 7 P.M. It was probably karma — cosmic payback for all those times he’d flipped off the sandman and stayed awake for multiple days at a stretch.

“Tony?”

“Hmm?”

A hand brushed Tony’s forehead. “I think it might be time to put you to bed.”

Tony whined a bit and hugged his kid a little closer to his chest. Morgan smelled like baby powder and Johnson’s, and the little snuffling noises she made as she napped were oddly soothing. He hadn’t let go of her since he sat down, and he really didn’t want to now — even if he **_was_** slumping sideways against the arm of the sofa. Oops.

“All right, none of that,” Pepper chided lightly, tugging on Tony’s arm. “Rhodey, can you take Morgan?”

Next thing Tony knew, he was lying supine on his bed — and someone was fussing with his zipper. “Not in the mood,” he slurred groggily. “Too tired.”

“Don’t worry, honey,” Pepper replied. “Just making sure you’re comfortable.”

“Oh.”

A few minutes later, after he’d been stripped down to his skivvies, Tony curled up under his Egyptian cotton sheets with a moan of pleasure. “Much better than hospital linens.”

Pepper laughed. “You’re not wrong there.”

“Sorry I cut the party short.”

“Tony, I think everyone understands.”

Tony burrowed in a little deeper, ready to drop off — until something else occurred to him. “Can you tell Blue thank you again for the penguin?” 

That was probably the biggest surprise of the night. Apparently, Nebula had concluded after months of watching American TV that stuffed animals, flowers, or balloons were customary gifts for sick humans and had purchased said penguin at a rest stop while Rhodey gassed up his Hyundai.

Pepper giggled again. “I will. That **_was_** very sweet of her.”

“Yeah. Is it weird that I feel proud?”

“No, I don’t think so. I think you’ve taught her a lot just by being you.” Pepper leaned over and kissed Tony on the cheek. “Now go to sleep, okay? You need it.”

“Yes, dear,” Tony mumbled into his pillow.

In mere moments, he was dead to the world. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is obviously a transition chapter to get us to the action at home. But I hope you love sooooooft, sleepy Tony anyway!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I am finally - FINALLY - out of the hospital! 
> 
> To cut a long story short, they thought there was something wrong with my heart, but it turned out to be a rare autoimmune disease that gradually destroys your muscle strength. Ha HA! Fun. It will be a long time before I regain my former levels of functioning, but at least now, the doctors seem to be on the right track.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who sent me well-wishes on my Chapter 8 stub. I've erased the placeholder to post this update, but I certainly haven't forgotten your loyalty and concern.
> 
> Kisses all!

“You ever meet Larry Black, Tony? I believe his land is on the other side of your lake.”

Of all the things Tony expected Veronica to say after his second accidental fall of the morning, that — was certainly not it. “Why? He got a plan to murder all the ticks on Earth?” he growled as he grabbed the mobility specialist’s hand, hauled himself out of the dew-dampened undergrowth, and plunked his keister onto a nearby fallen log. “Seriously: fuck those eight-legged bastards,” he added once he was fully upright and had brushed the mud off his knees, still on a roll. “And fuck sneaky tree roots too. With rusty chainsaws.”

Veronica gamely absorbed Tony’s venting without offense or push-back - which, yeah, made Tony feel just **_fantastic_** \- and sat down beside him. “The local CBS affiliate did a story on Black just the other day. His eyes were permanently damaged in a car crash when — “

Silence.

“Yeah.” Tony bounced his cane - crunch, crunch, crunch - against the ground, knowing no other place to channel the fidgets that suddenly traveled down his arms. “I think I get it.” 

That distinct way people trailed off whenever last year’s disaster - last year’s failure - came up in conversation? That way many people politely Voldemorted the literal fucking apocalypse? And worst of all, that way Tony’s heart would always skip a beat in response? These had long become basic facts of his life — and for reasons even psychotherapy couldn’t quite erase, Tony felt obligated to spare others the pain of speaking Thanos’ name every single time. 

“Well, he’s been relearning how to fix Volvos by feel.”

“Don’t tell me: it’s time for another pep talk.”

“Yep.”

“Oh, goody.” And then Tony winced. “Sorry. I’m being a dick. Just ignore me.”

“You’ve only been out of the hospital for a week.”

“I know.”

“And you’ve been adapting extremely well. The ground is very unpredictable out here. Honestly, I’m surprised you haven’t fallen more.”

Tony removed his shades and pressed his thumbs against his eyelids, limiting his reply to a noncommittal grunt. Veronica was right — unfortunately for his poor ego. That’s why they were out here to begin with: to learn how to handle the unexpected. To learn how **_not_** to faceplant while helping Pepper harvest his cherry tomatoes — or feed his newly acquired chickens.

“You **_aren’t_** ‘disabled.’ Or ‘useless.’ That’s just your insecurity talking. Most of the things you were doing before this happened are things you **_can_** continue to do until you’ve recovered. You just — need to adjust —”

“— get organized —” Tony chimed in, already familiar with Veronica’s favorite piece of advice.

“— and use your other gifts. I understand you have quite a few.”

Tony smiled wanly. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Princess Peach.”

“So I’ve heard. Ready to resume our nature walk?”

Tony sighed and rose to his feet, stretching his spine until the tension there released with a satisfying crack. “What the hell? All I’ve bruised so far is my pride.”

“That’s the spirit!”

Tony chuckled darkly and cautiously took his next step. 

\--*--

_Use your other gifts._

As it turned out, Tony **_did_** have an idea — something he’d been massaging at the back of his brain from the moment he’d woken up in the ICU and realized he still couldn’t see for shit. And at this point? It was **_long_** past time to pull the trigger on it. FRIDAY had been a godsend over the past few days, but writing and editing code out loud was maddeningly tedious. He needed a better option — a **_faster_** option.

Thus, after Veronica left, Tony wolfed down a quick lunch and headed right to his garage — and the B.A.R.F. apparatus he’d stashed on his back shelf.

It had been well over a year since he’d touched the bloody thing — and yes, he felt a pang of guilt as he weighed the glasses in his two hands now. They weren’t a bottle of Dalmore 62, but did that actually make a difference? **_Was_** this simply the next logical step? Or was Tony indulging yet one more addiction? Alcohol, after all, wasn’t his only weakness.

_Fuck it._ He’d discuss it with Doc later. Right now, the world was still conclusively screwed — and recent challenges aside, Tony was sure there was more he could do. 

“Okay, FRI,” he said. “Let’s see if we can reprogram this baby to link up a real-time feed to the occipital lobe.”

For the next several hours, Tony lost himself in the reasonable contentment of work, spinning aimlessly on his stool and tapping his fingers against his thighs as he wrangled with his AI over safety tolerances and the particulars of human neurophysiology. FRIDAY, for her part, was touchingly concerned that her charge was three steps away from melting his wetware; Tony was equally convinced that he knew his limits. It was, in fact, a fairly typical argument.

“Pretty sure I never programmed you to sass me like this,” Tony grumbled after FRIDAY had offered up a fifth dire warning of his imminent brain damage.

“On the contrary, Boss,” his mutinous creation retorted, “that is precisely what you have designed me to do. Indeed, it is my second protocol: ‘guard the physical well-being of Anthony Edward Stark against all self-inflicted threats of harm.’ I believe you’ve called it the ‘Don’t Be an Idiot’ Protocol?”

“Well, consider this an override, sugarplum. I promise I know what I’m doing.” Tony donned his redesigned toy — and, holding his breath, he tapped the switch. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry: I actually AM going somewhere whumpy with this. I just need to set things up first. ;)


	9. Chapter 9

Tony **_was_** careful. He really was. Each time his stomach started to churn - each time that tell-tale throbbing started to build behind his eyes - he put down his macgyvered occipital stimulator and allowed himself a break. Casual self-destruction **_wasn’t_** his goal no matter what FRIDAY may have thought deep in the recesses of her ones and zeroes.

But you know what **_was_** on the agenda? Honesty. So once Tony was near to tapping out his presently limited reserves, he picked up his cane and his little work-around and made a beeline for the house — and his wife.

Predictably, Pepper was not enthused when she heard Tony’s news.

“If I keep my own peepers shut, I can last an hour - maybe two - at a time without much pain,” Tony hastened to say the moment he sensed Pepper’s resistance in the tautness of her arms. “I’ll be fine. **_And_** I can get some real work done.”

Pepper hummed briefly in contemplation. “It’s that ‘much’ part that bothers me, Tony. I’ve already told you we have no pressing deadlines to worry about right now. Nothing, at least, that requires you to be in any pain at all.”

“I know. I know. I realize that, Pep. I just — **_need_** to have this option.” Blowing out a frustrated breath, Tony wormed out of Pepper’s embrace and started to pace in front of the fireplace, driven by an overwhelming compulsion to go, go, **_go._** “I know I’m supposed to chillax and be zen, but I **_can’t_**. No matter how hard I try, honey, I get —”

“Restless?”

“Yes!” Tony burst in relief. “See, I **_knew_** you’d get it. You always do.”

Pepper got up, stopped Tony mid-stride, and captured his twitching hands in her own. “I **_do_** understand where you’re coming from, sweetheart. I know you’re used to being a man of action, and I don’t expect - or want - you to change. But do **_you_** understand why **_I’m_** worried?”

Tony did. “I’ve got a record,” he admitted simply, sitting back down on the arm of the sofa.

“I know you’ve never meant to hurt me, but — yes, you do.”

“That’s why I’m here. No secrets. Not this time.”

“I appreciate that.”

“I want to be better — for you.”

Feeling the play of gentle fingers on the back of his neck, Tony closed his eyes and, for a long while, allowed himself to be held still against the warmth of Pepper’s breast.

Eventually, though, he couldn’t help but disrupt the cozy tableau: “Did we just have a healthy conversation?”

“Yep.”

“Because I can do that now. I can do anything!”

“Uh huh. Now collect your daughter from her nap and wash up before your head gets too big to fit through the bathroom door.”

And Pepper ushered Tony out of the room with one well-placed - and tantalizing - smack.

\--*-- 

Ah, the best laid plans of mice and men!

Tony **_was_** careful. For the next two weeks, he strictly limited how often he used his new invention.to three or four short sessions a day — because he meant what he’d said to Pepper with all his heart.

Tony **_was_** careful — until inspiration struck.

He could’ve - **_should’ve_** \- foreseen his own downfall. He wasn’t completely unconscious of his own tendency towards excess, especially while wrestling with a thorny technical problem — or with the twisty oddities of his own soul. 

And yet, there was still that unhealthy kernel deep inside of Tony that just couldn’t banish the damned devil whispering sweet rationalizations in his ear: _Just thirty more minutes. Come on, you’ve had worse headaches than this. Just get this last part finished. Then you can throw down some pills and sleep until breakfast._

So Tony started to push the envelope — and Pepper, of course, started to notice.

“You’re not using the glasses more than we agreed, are you?” Pepper asked point-blank halfway through week three as Tony picked listlessly at some broccoli on his dinner plate. “You seem — a little off tonight.”

“No, I’m good.” _You_ **_asshole_**. “Just a little sick of the greenery.” 

Oh God, the lie dropped from Tony’s tongue so **_easily_**. But he **_wasn’t_** good. He was dizzy. He was nauseated. And most concerning of all, he’d had a spontaneous nosebleed earlier that afternoon. 

Oh yes: he was **_officially_** going off the rails — and screaming internally the entire way down. _Tell her, you heel. Tell her you need help. Call your sponsor. It’s not booze you’re craving, but it’s the same thought pattern, right? **Do something, for fuck’s sake**_.

But Tony didn’t do something. Instead, he sat there quietly under Pepper's watchful gaze, paralyzed by his own shame.

That’s why, on an otherwise beautiful Saturday night, he found himself on the bathroom floor once again.

\--*--

“Oh, Tony.”

It was dark in the en suite. Tony had set the illumination at 10% — or possibly less. But Pepper could still just barely see where her husband had wedged himself between the toilet and the wall. And she could also see that he was miserable — and shaking like a leaf.

“You don’t have to stay,” Tony whispered, broken.

“Yeah. I think I do.”

Pepper grabbed a tissue and crouched down beside Tony, wiping up the trail of mucus that was leaking from his nose. At her touch, Tony flinched, choking on a sob.

“Should we go to the hospital?”

“No. FRI ran a scan. Jus’ a bitch of an EM headache.”

“I should’ve pushed harder the other night.”

“No.” Tony grabbed Pepper’s wrist with an almost bruising force. “Don’t do that. This is **_my_** fault, not yours.”

With a sigh, Pepper disentangled herself from Tony's grip and squeezed his shoulder. “Let’s not worry about the blame right now, okay? Have you taken anything for the pain?”

Tony wilted, resting his cheek on the toilet seat.

“Tony?”

“No.”

“I’ll get the injectable medication.”

“Probably too late.”

“It’ll still be better than nothing, though, right?”

Tony’s only reply was a strangled retch — and another sob. On instinct, Pepper reached out.

“Please,” Tony panted. “Please don’t. Just go.”

“I’m not leaving you here to suffer, Tony. I don’t care what you think you deserve.” Tony gagged again, and Pepper quickly turned his face in the right direction, petting the back of his head as he brought up everything he’d eaten just a few hours before. “Okay, easy,” she murmured. “Just let it out.”

“ ** _God_** ,” Tony gasped fifteen minutes later after the violent paroxysms had finally ceased. “I — I can’t —” He retreated, pushing himself back against the wall, his eyes streaming, his chest heaving.

“Breathe, Tony. You’re gonna be okay.”

Tony shook his head, his eyelids slipping shut.

“Yes, you are. You know why? Because you know what to do next. Right?”

“Throw those fucking glasses in the lake?” Tony said, his voice raw, his words bitter.

“Well, yes, I suppose that would work too.” Pepper shifted her position so she could pull Tony’s still-quivering frame into her lap. “But I was thinking of Dr. Nolan. And Jack.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“Because you’re not the same man you once were. This is a setback, not the end of the world.”

“I’m sorry, Pep.”

“Shh. I know. Just breathe.”

And Pepper sat, letting her pajamas soak in Tony’s sweat and lingering tears. 


	10. Chapter 10

Summer transitioned into fall, the days began to shorten, and Tony — was managing. After his technological misadventure, he stepped up his meetings with Dr. Nolan and the local AA chapter and, with help, started to settle, his borderline mania easing as he adjusted to his new routine.

Pepper was proud of him. But of course, that wasn’t new.

Smiling, she reached down and lightly traced her finger along a streak of grey that ran through Tony’s hair above his right ear. She was enjoying this rare chance to watch her husband sleep, his face slack, his calloused hands clutching his pillow for dear life. He looked — **_soft_**. Almost — **_adorable_**. And truth be told, she didn’t want this moment to end. Alas, it was approaching ten in the morning, and Tony had a follow-up with his nephrologist at noon, so — “Tony?”

Tony blinked once lazily at Pepper’s shake and groaned.

“Time to get dressed.”

“Do we have to?”

“Hmm. Well —” Pepper scooted in beside Tony and planted a quick kiss on his lips. “I suppose I **_could_** drag you to Dr. Stearns’ office in your boxers. But then what would people on Twitter say?”

“Don’t care,” Tony said, his eyes still closed. “Too comfortable.”

“Oh?” Pepper snaked her hands under the blanket and started to tickle Tony under his ribs. “What about now?” 

Tony jumped — then sat up, sporting a glare that was only half serious. “You — are a **_devil woman_**. Get ready for instant revenge!”

It was the loud crow of Tony’s rooster outside that ultimately stopped the silly wrestling match.

“See? Even Cluck Norris wants you to get your butt in gear,” Pepper teased, knowing she’d won.

Pinned beneath her on top of their now thoroughly tousled sheets, Tony pouted. “Okay, okay. Let me up. I surrender.”

Pepper obliged, releasing Tony’s wrists and backing up off the bed.

“It isn’t fair, though,” Tony insisted, feigning offense. 

“What? That you’re ticklish and I’m not?”

“ ** _Exactly._** That was a **_clear_** abuse of —”

Then Tony stopped. Blinked once. Twice. 

“Pep?” He stepped towards her, uncharacteristically hesitant, and seized the hem of her blouse, rubbing his thumbs on the silk. “Your shirt,” he breathed. “It’s — it’s blue?”

Pepper’s stomach fluttered. “Yeah, it is. You can see that?”

“Yeah.” Tony’s eyes shined. “Yeah, I can.”

\--*--

Tony’s vision came back in degrees. After the color came a slow, slow improvement of the resolution that gradually brought back facial expressions and microcircuits and veins on brilliant maple leaves. By mid-October, Tony was still prone to killer eyestrain headaches if he read or did close, intricate work for too long, but otherwise — he was back. He was well and truly **_back_**.

And it was just in time. A week before Halloween, Morgan sat up on her own — and Tony saw **_every single detail_** of her triumphant smile. Thank God. Thank **_fucking_** God.

\--*--

“All things considered, I think I did okay.” 

All things considered, Rhodey agreed. “Yeah, I’ll give you that. If this had happened a few years ago, I’m sure you would’ve spun yourself into a coma before too long.”

“Like I said: growth!”

Halloween had dawned clear and bright, so Rhodey and Tony were eating brunch on the porch with this year’s jack o'lantern — which, Tony made sure, was twice as large and hideous as the one he’d carved after his last brush with death.

“You gonna take Morgan trick-or-treating later?”

“Pepper thinks she might be too young to appreciate it, but sure, why not? Angel Girl brought her the best costume the other day. Why **_shouldn’t_** Morguna get a chance to show it off?” Tony set down his glass of water. “But there’s something else I want to do first.”

“Yeah?” Rhodey recognized what Tony’s change in posture and expression meant and was instantly suspicious.

“I want to race you to Niagara Falls.”

Rhodey grinned. “You’re on, rugrat. Go get your armor so I can kick your ass.”

\--*--

Though Tony probably **_could’ve_** piloted his suit even without his sight with FRIDAY’s assistance, he’d agreed to stay grounded for the duration of his recovery out of an abundance of caution. After all, if he’d been hit by a surprise EMP in the middle of a joyride (or a trip to Mt. Washington), he would’ve been totally screwed.

Thus, the moment he kicked on his boot jets and shot through the forest canopy, Tony laughed in open delight — and immediately forgot the reason for his flight. After a long few months spent stuck on terra firma, it was a relief to return to the sky. Here, he was whole. Here, he was at home. 

High on adrenaline, Tony pushed and pushed, rocketing ever upward until he’d punched through a fair-weather cumulus cloud and cleared the tropopause. Then he turned three somersaults and dove back down towards the hills below, hot on Rhodey’s tail.

“Show off,” Rhodey radioed.

“Damn, that feels good!” Tony whooped in reply. And with that, he climbed in altitude again, this time to execute a barrel roll.

Miles later, after they’d splashed through their designated finish line, they touched down on the American shore and waved at the Maid of the Mist, which, amazingly enough, was still in operation despite the recent decrease in demand. A tiny group of blue-clad passengers leaned over the side of the boat and waved back, applauding the unexpected show.

Rhodey retracted his faceplate. “Pretty sure I won again.”

“Pretty sure it was a tie.”

And then? Then Tony was overcome. He wasn’t sure where it came from, the sudden flood of emotion — but very briefly, it stole his ability to speak.

“Hey. You all right, Tones?”

Tony gazed out at the falls, taking in the rainbows that glittered in their spray.

“Yeah. Always,” he finally said with complete and utter sincerity.

  
If there was one thing he’d learned, it was that he’d never stop being the Invincible Iron Man in the ways that truly mattered. No matter what fate may throw in his direction, he would always be the same: a hero, genius, father — and **_survivor._**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case you didn't catch on, "Angel Girl" is Carol. Given how she and Tony met, that felt like the right nickname. ;)
> 
> Also: I hope you like how I reformulated the "Tony quartet." I put some real thought into that one.
> 
> Coming up in this particular series? A kidnapping at the Christmas market, featuring Tony as bad-ass protective father (and also some whump because of course there will be whump)! (I'm outlining the story now and will start posting once I've got a few chapters completed.)
> 
> And, uh, I may also try to fill some of those Whumptober prompts too. We'll see. My current medical status can best be described as "stable but still complicated," so any extras will be contingent on my energy levels in the coming weeks.
> 
> I was pantsing this one, admittedly, so a great big THANK YOU to all of you who were patient enough to stick things out to the end. I hope my completely unplanned whump/hc/fluff fic brought you at least a little joy.
> 
> -H


End file.
